


red for my love

by Charmsilver



Series: dreamers [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Caring Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Established Relationship, First Time, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Insecure Merlin (Merlin), M/M, Wedding, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-24 17:08:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21641452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charmsilver/pseuds/Charmsilver
Summary: It's the morning of the wedding of the century and Merlin can't find his pants.Part of the 'dreamers' series but can be read as a standalone.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: dreamers [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1549249
Comments: 11
Kudos: 375





	red for my love

**Author's Note:**

> This is literally the most disgustingly soppy goddamn thing I have EVER written.
> 
> Also, I know nothing about medieval weddings.

Merlin

Merlin began the day with a general feeling of foreboding. He was used to those feelings by now; such was life in Camelot as King Arthur’s manservant and personal sorcerer.

But this morning the sense of dread was for an entirely different reason.

He couldn’t remember where he’d put his pants.

Really, how was it possible they had disappeared in such a small space? Merlin’s bedroom was barely big enough to fit his bed and there were few places a pair of pants could hide. Yes, all right, he wasn’t the tidiest person, but he’d literally looked everywhere twice. They simply weren’t there.

Oh Hell. Arthur was going to kill him. Could he turn up to the ceremony with no pants on? No, that wouldn’t do. That just wouldn’t do at all! Perhaps there was a spell to turn mouse droppings into pants. Then Merlin could have hundreds of pants and he’d never lose them again.

Groaning, Merlin thumped down onto the bed in nothing but his rumpled shirt and underwear. His face fell into his palms as he debated the ethics of pausing time so that he might just nip to the laundry, pick up a fresh pair of pants, and be back in time for the start of the wedding.

That’s when he heard a soft knock at the door, and shuffling as someone entered the room. “Is everything all right?” It was Gaius.

Merlin peeked out at him through his fingers. “I can’t find my pants,” he said, and even he could hear the panic in his voice. “I can’t turn up without pants on. What am I supposed to do?”

Merlin tried not to feel too put out by the amused expression on Gaius’ face. The elderly man sat beside Merlin on the bed and squeezed his shoulder comfortingly. “You don’t imagine you’re going to wear your usual attire to the wedding, do you?”

Merlin blinked. “What else would I wear?”

Gaius looked genuinely surprised. “Arthur didn’t discuss this with you?” He tutted. “Merlin, my boy, your pants have been taken away. Perhaps for good. I’m surprised they didn’t take that with them too.” He gestured to Merlin’s beloved shirt.

“What!” Merlin cried. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh dear.” Giaus sighed. “Merlin, when is it going to occur to you that you are now a _prince_. Arthur isn’t going to let you parade around in peasant garb anymore.”

“But I like my peasant garb,” Merlin protested. “It’s comfortable.” Then, hollowly. “A prince?”

For some reason, Merlin hadn’t really thought about it until right this very moment, a mere hour before he was due to wed the king of Camelot. Him – a prince? It was absurd. Outrageous. Horrifying. Prince Merlin.

_Prince Merlin_.

He shuddered.

“Anyway,” Gaius continued, oblivious to Merlin’s internal turmoil. “Arthur’s picked out something for you to wear. Or rather, he commissioned the royal tailors to make you something suitable. It’s all laid out in the main room. Just be glad he didn’t send servants to dress you too,” he added at Merlin’s look of horror.

Merlin looked down at the frayed cuffs of his shirt, the pale skin of his legs and knobbles of his knees. He felt sick and desperately inadequate. What was Arthur thinking, marrying Merlin? He couldn’t be a prince – it would never work. He was nothing more than an imposter – and they’d all realise it soon enough.

“Merlin.” Gaius’ voice cut through his panic. The old man wrapped his arms around Merlin and held him. “It’s all right,” he soothed. “The king loves you. I’ve never seen such love as what you two share. He cares not for what you wear, but there are traditions and civilities that must be upheld in order to keep the court happy. Arthur needs his people to see that you are a worthy match for him, and while it is perhaps shallow, appearances are what form our first impressions of a person.” Gaius drew back but held onto Merlin’s shoulders. “Your union is not usual, so every attempt must be made to make it appear as such. It will make life easier for Arthur, and for you.”

He was right, of course. Merlin thought of Arthur, of the way he smiled at Merlin – his face lit with joy. Arthur had taken Merlin for who he was – sorcerer and all – and Merlin would take Arthur for who he was – the king. King of Camelot. The Once and Future King. King Arthur. So what if Merlin had to wear different clothes?

And when he saw the robes that had been tailored specially for him, he wasn’t sure he minded anyway. To start there were the inky blue shirt and trousers, their cuffs embroidered with silver stars so fine Merlin thought he could see entire constellations in the stitching. When Merlin slipped into the finery (which was probably worth more than the entire village of Ealdor combined) he grudgingly admitted that nobleman’s clothing could be comfortable too.

Even more grand than those, however, was the cloak that he was supposed to wear over them. This was a twilight blue and so silky it ran through Merlin’s fingers like water. On it were stitched more silver stars, bright and gleaming in the light as if they were really twinkling. When Gaius held up a flat tray for him to see his reflection, he startled; it was much too grand, and yet he found that he loved it. He felt Arthur in the folds of the cloak, felt his presence like a warm embrace, for Arthur knew Merlin more than anyone else, had known Merlin would be comfortable in something such as this, for it was beautiful, yes, but not ostentatious.

The final touch was a small silver dragon pinned to Merlin’s lapel – the symbol of the Pendragons – the symbol of Arthur.

There was not a stitch of Camelot red on the whole outfit; even the polished leather boots were inlaid with silver rather than red. Merlin tried not to feel disappointed by this; he had rarely worn the colour of Camelot in all his years of servitude to Arthur. He had never been given the chance to don the red cape of the knights. On many occasions he had been the odd one out among a sea of red, but before he had always thought it made an odd sort of sense. Camelot had not been a place of welcome for Merlin – from the very beginning it had been a place to fear, a place where Merlin was a criminal.

But things were different now; Merlin feared the laws of Camelot no longer. He had thought… well, he had thought Arthur might grant him the honour of the cape, at least for today.

Merlin shook his head, dislodging such thoughts. Arthur had chosen clothing that suited Merlin perfectly, and that thought filled him with warmth. Now that he was dressed, he felt a little less like hurling the contents of his stomach into the chamber pot.

He turned to Gaius, who was watching him with a misty-eyed expression.

“Come on,” Merlin said, managing a weak smile. “We’ve a wedding to attend.”

*

Merlin had been so frantic panicking about his own appearance that he had entirely failed to prepare himself for the sight of Arthur in his wedding finery, which is why he nearly tripped over his own feet at the sight of the king, decked out in perhaps the most beautiful outfit in the entire kingdom.

Where Merlin’s outfit was a swatch of dark blues and night sky motifs, Arthur’s was a glittering tapestry of golds and yellows.

He looked like the sun.

Merlin felt a little weak at the knees, so he was glad when Arthur strode over to him and wrapped him up in his arms.

“Hello,” Arthur said, and his voice was lovely like honey. The love Merlin heard in that one ordinary word made his head spin.

“Hello,” he returned. “You look dazzling.”

Arthur’s laugh was a huff of warm air on Merlin’s cheek. “You too.”

Merlin swallowed. He’d felt panicky and nervous before, but now he felt calm, excited even. In a few minutes he and Arthur would be married.

Merlin would be a prince.

Arthur would be _his_.

He pulled back so he could kiss Arthur’s smiling mouth. “I love you,” he said, beaming.

The king of Camelot reached for Merlin’s hand and kissed his pale knuckles. “And I love you,” he said.

They turned towards the doors and the guards swung them open to reveal the throne room, decked out for the wedding with flowers and garlands and every manner of decoration. The entire court was assembled and they all turned to look as the doors opened.

Merlin held his breath, fear a cold presence at the base of his spine once more, but then Arthur squeezed his fingers and tugged him forward, and together they walked into the hall – sun and star. King and prince. Arthur and Merlin.

*

Arthur

God in Heaven, what had Arthur been thinking, dressing Merlin in an outfit like that? The cloak suited him perfectly, stitched so finely it seemed to be a piece of the twilight sky itself. Merlin shone with the radiance of the moon and Arthur felt more than a little overwhelmed by the sight.

But as they stepped into the throne room and began the measured walk towards the front, Arthur felt Merlin’s hand tremble. He turned his gaze to his companion and experienced a stab of sympathy. Merlin had been nervous about the wedding – terrified, in fact, and Arthur could hardly blame him; though he himself could not remember a time he had not been scrutinised by every member of the court, Merlin had had no such experience. For most of his life he had been a background figure, seemingly no one of importance. And now he was here, at Arthur’s side, about to become Arthur’s husband and Prince of Camelot.

Merlin would be scrutinised more than most, not only because he was a commoner, and a man, but because he was a sorcerer, the kind of person who, until very recently, had not been welcome in Camelot’s walls, let alone its palace.

Yet Merlin was a braver person than most, and he walked at Arthur’s side even though the act of doing so was more difficult than he would ever care to admit. Arthur was proud to have Merlin at his side, proud to show his love for this man; he just hoped Merlin knew that.

When they reached the front they turned to face one another. Arthur wanted to pull Merlin close, but the ceremony allowed them to clasp hands and nothing more. Their eyes met and Merlin grinned – nervous but happy, too. Arthur grinned back and squeezed Merlin’s fingers.

The ceremony was nothing unusual, though their union could hardly be considered traditional. Arthur paid little attention to the words spoken by the celebrant; he was too distracted by the curl of Merlin’s mouth. At last, they were bound together in marriage and permission was given to kiss.

Arthur leaned in as Merlin did the same; it was chaste, gentle, almost disbelieving. They were married. Here, at last, they were wed.

As they pulled away from each other, the crowd erupted in a cheer. Arthur heard a particularly loud whoop of joy, and a lewd whistle from someone he could only assume was Gwaine.

Merlin’s grin was so big it seemed to take over his entire face. Arthur couldn’t help it – he stole one more kiss from the man he loved.

Then he cleared his throat and they turned to face the audience. Nearly everyone was beaming and applauding. Arthur saw the knights smiling with delight; he caught Gwen’s eye and found her brushing a tear from the corner of her eye. She laughed when she met his gaze and he grinned back.

Gwen had been his first love; she remained one of his fiercest friends.

He saw Merlin’s mother Hunith, standing at Gaius’s side. Her face was awash with tears but her smile was bright and happy. Arthur nodded at her and she returned the gesture before dabbing at her face with a handkerchief.

He lifted his hand, signalling for silence. It took the crowd a few seconds to calm, and then Arthur spoke.

“Friends,” he said. “Members of the court. Welcome. I am thankful you are all here today. Many years ago a young man walked through the gates of Camelot and immediately got himself tangled in the complicated lives of the Pendragons.” There was a twittering of amusement from the crowd. “My father made this boy my manservant, for he saved my life. What my father did not know at the time was that this boy was a sorcerer, and that he would go on to save my life many more times. This young man was Merlin, and it is not only I who owes my life to Merlin, but Camelot herself, and all who dwell here. Merlin has protected us for as long as he has lived here, and for this he has asked for nothing in return.”

Arthur turned to Merlin, who was staring at him with wide, surprised eyes. “Merlin,” Arthur said, addressing his husband. “I am not worthy of your love. For so long I…” Arthur paused and steeled himself. “I did not pay you the respect you deserved. I took your presence for granted, knowing you would always be at my side. The burden you carried was immense, and I only wish I could have helped you shoulder it. Merlin, you are Camelot’s hope, Camelot’s protector and prince. There is no one worthier of this honour than you.”

Arthur gestured to Leon, who had been standing in the wing. The knight approached and stood to attention.

Merlin looked at the garment held in Leon’s hands, then back to Arthur. His eyes were already wet. “Arthur –“

Arthur shushed him. “Turn around,” he said quietly so only Merlin could hear.

Merlin did, and with gentle fingers Arthur unfastened Merlin’s starry cloak. He handed it to Leon, who swapped it for the other garment and Arthur unfurled the new cloak and let it ripple in the light.

He draped the fabric over Merlin’s shoulders and fastened it with the same silver dragon pin.

Merlin turned and met Arthur’s gaze, his eyes streaming with tears.

The crowd shouted for joy as Merlin pivoted and acknowledged the court as their prince, dressed for the first time in a cloak of Camelot red.

*

After that there was the tournament to attend. Not the usual sort of tournament, mind, but more of a festival. Merlin had forbidden anyone from fighting, so the knights lined up to capture wreaths on the ends of their lances and hand them to Merlin as if he were a queen.

Merlin loved every minute of it; he jumped up to retrieve every wreath presented to him and wore them on his head like crowns, grinning like the loon he was.

Then there were dancers, and fire breathers, and re-enactments of famous ancient battles. Arthur found it all a bit dull, but Merlin was alight with happiness, so Arthur was content.

So as Merlin watched the dancers twirl around in the sand, Arthur watched Merlin. His mind wandered and he began to think of the evening that awaited them – first the feast, and then…

He felt his cheeks warm.

Perhaps it was a little too early to be thinking about that.

*

Merlin

He could not remember a time when he had been so happy.

His heart was so full of love. For his mother, for Gaius, for Gwen and the knights. For Arthur.

There had once been a time when he had feared all he felt for Arthur, feared that it would lead only to despair and heartbreak. How wrong he had been.

Loving Arthur had given him everything.

He smiled to himself and inhaled deeply, the cool evening air caressing his face. He had slipped away, just for a minute, to find a space to breathe. The feast was beginning soon and the revelries would only get rowdier from here on in.

From his left he heard a scuffle of boots on stone.

“Merlin?” said a voice.

Hunith appeared, her eyebrows knitted with concern. Merlin waved her over and she sat beside him on the stone bench. “It everything all right?” she inquired, reaching up to stroke his hair.

He hummed and smiled. “Yes, it all just got a bit overwhelming in there.”

She laughed lightly. “Indeed.”

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Merlin admitted, leaning his head on her shoulder.

She wrapped an arm around him. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” she said. “My son, marrying the King of Camelot. Who could have predicted such a thing?”

Merlin laughed. “No one,” he said. “Not even the great dragon. And certainly not me.”

They were silent for a time. Then Hunith hummed. “It’s beautiful, your affection for each other. I think there are few who experience such love. Yours will go down in history, I’m sure of it.”

“Hm.” Merlin huffed. “Arthur was such a prat when we first met. But he was always golden. His heart, I mean…” He sighed. “I can’t explain it.”

“You don’t have to.” She kissed the top of his head. “It is the language of the heart, not the mind.”

She stood and pulled Merlin to his feet and he felt his heart swell when she hugged him. “Now, my prince,” she teased. “Your king is waiting.”

*

It was strange to sit at Arthur’s side during the feast. No longer was Merlin the one filling Arthur’s cup with wine, but rather someone was filling Merlin’s cup. Lords and ladies paraded by, offering their congratulations – some genuine, others less so. Arthur acted every bit the king he was, graciously listening to everyone who spoke to him and thanking them. He kissed the ladies’ hands and shook the men’s and Merlin sat by and felt increasingly silly.

That is, until Arthur turned to him, placed a warm hand high on Merlin’s thigh, and whispered: “I want nothing more than to alone with you right now.”

Merlin froze and blushed so hard he felt lightheaded. Arthur grinned and turned to greet the next passing noble.

He didn’t take his hand off Merlin’s thigh.

It wasn’t as though Merlin hadn’t thought about their wedding night. He had, in detail. He and Arthur hadn’t gone further than passionate kissing, for Arthur hadn’t wanted to scandalise anyone more than necessary. Tonight they could finally cross that barrier.

The idea filled Merlin with arousal. And nervousness.

Arthur’s hand on his thigh wasn’t helping. And then Arthur’s fingers twitched and brushed between his legs and all the blood in Merlin’s body hurled itself southwards.

Merlin made a breathless whimpering sound and grabbed Arthur’s hand. “Arthur,” he said lowly. “Tell me we’ve been here long enough. Surely no one would mind if we slipped away now…”

The king’s grin was betrayed by the red high on his cheeks. “Don’t be ridiculous, Merlin,” Arthur said. “We’ve barely been here two hours. Leaving now would be insulting to our honoured guests.”

Merlin whined. “You can’t be serious.”

Arthur slipped his hand a little higher and Merlin groaned. Arthur leaned in and whispered in Merlin’s ear. “I’m not,” he said.

Then he stood and the entire room turned towards him, like moths to a flame. “Honoured guests,” Arthur said. “I trust you have enjoyed the festivities today.” There was a roar of approval, then silence once more. “It is time for the prince and I to retire, but rest assured, the party may continue without us.” The shouts that followed this pronouncement were deeply embarrassing and Merlin burned as red as a lobster.

Arthur just laughed and pulled him to his feet.

Ale sloshed out of hastily toasted mugs as the king and prince retreated from the hall. The sounds of revelry followed them as they strode through the corridors.

Merlin’s senses were alight, his skin on fire. He couldn’t even bring himself to be embarrassed by the guards who flanked them on their way to Arthur’s chambers, though he did grimace as they positioned themselves on either side of the door.

“Won’t they be able to hear us?” Merlin asked as they shut Arthur’s door behind them.

Arthur crowded Merlin against the wall and grinned. “Why should that matter? Let them hear us.” He was a little tipsy from the wine, otherwise Merlin was sure he would have cared at least a little.

Merlin forgot all about the guards, anyway, as soon as Arthur’s lips found his.

*

They undressed until they wore nothing except their cloaks. Arthur, draped in gold and yellow and nothing else was undeniably the sexiest thing Merlin had ever witnessed. He stopped Arthur’s fingers as they fumbled at his clasp. “Leave it on,” he said.

Arthur dropped his hands and stood, staring at Merlin, his mouth curved into a surprised smile. Merlin knelt on the bed in front of him, his own red cloak spread out behind him.

He reached for Arthur, traced the muscles of his chest and the softer swell of his stomach. Then lower, over Arthur’s hips and strong thighs. When Merlin’s fingers finally touched Arthur between his legs, the king made a sound of surprise and steadied himself by reaching for Merlin’s shoulder.

Merlin explored there for a time, enjoying the way Arthur’s legs trembled as he was touched. Then Merlin drew his hand away and lay back upon the bed.

Arthur crawled on top of him and thrust their hips together, making them both grunt. Then they were kissing heatedly, lips quickly growing slick and swollen. Merlin tangled his fingers in Arthur’s hair and canted his hips upwards to meet Arthur’s again, desperate for friction.

Arthur responded by lowering his entire weight over Merlin; he began to move his hips in tiny little thrusts, sending shivers of pleasure through Merlin’s body.

There were so many things Merlin wanted to try with Arthur, but then Arthur lifted himself to his knees and thrust his hand between them, catching both of them in his fist. Merlin cried out as he stroked them simultaneously, but Arthur’s mouth silenced him. After that it was just a haze of pleasure until Merlin came, crying out as he spilled himself over Arthur’s fingers. Arthur soon followed and when it was done he rolled over and pulled Merlin against him.

They lay together, both catching their breath.

Arthur laughed quietly and stroked Merlin’s hair. “I think you gave the guards quite a concert.”

Merlin cringed. “Was I that loud?”

Arthur touched Merlin’s mouth with a finger. “It was quite impressive, actually. And…” he dragged his finger over Merlin’s lips. “Enjoyable.”

“Oh Hell,” Merlin groaned, hiding his face in Arthur’s chest.

“Don’t worry,” Arthur soothed. “They change the guards in a few hours. In the morning you can scandalise an entirely new set.” Arthur’s hand drifted to Merlin’s backside and rubbed teasingly. “This is going to be a lot of fun.”

“You’re only saying that because you’ve had a few mugs of wine,” Merlin accused.

Arthur huffed, then squeezed Merlin’s backside in retaliation. Merlin yelped as arousal shot through him.

“Hm,” Arthur said, fingers travelling in complicated pathways over Merlin’s sensitive skin. “Interesting…”

“I’m never going to show my face in Camelot ever again,” Merlin said into Arthur’s chest.

Arthur’s fingers were teasing him mercilessly now, almost slipping in between his cheeks but retreating at the last second. “I didn’t realise you were such a blushing bride, Merlin,” Arthur teased. “I guess you won’t want me to do… this, then.”

His fingers spread him apart and dragged over his perineum.

Guards be damned, Merlin thought.

He moaned shamelessly as Arthur brought a new wave of arousal crashing over him. “You’re still a prat,” Merlin said between groans of pleasure.

Arthur kissed the insult from Merlin’s lips and crooked his fingers.

Merlin promptly forgot about everything except Arthur, and Arthur’s hands, and the love that burned deep inside him, as great and powerful and wonderful as a dragon.

*

Arthur

The morning after the wedding dawned bright and clear and sticky. Arthur woke tangled in the bed linen, and pinned under something warm and heavy.

“Merlin?” Arthur grumbled.

Merlin’s brow furrowed and he mumbled something unintelligible, doing absolutely nothing to help with Arthur’s current state of immobility. He was still naked apart from the bright red cloak that had become twisted and tangled in Merlin’s limbs, though his perfectly beautiful ass had been left uncovered – providing Arthur with a rather lovely view.

Arthur couldn’t resist – he reached down and palmed the smooth skin.

“Mm.” Merlin wriggled and nuzzled Arthur’s chest with his cheek. “Arthur?”

“Good morning,” Arthur said, stroking Merlin lazily from his thigh to his neck and back down again. He smiled when Merlin stretched, arching into Arthur’s touch. They were still sticky and sweaty from the night before – unpleasantly so – but Arthur must have grown soft because he didn’t immediately call for a bath. Rather, he tugged on Merlin’s arms until he rose and repositioned himself at Arthur’s side, curled into him, mouth opening to place a wet kiss on Arthur’s collar.

“‘Lo,” Merlin replied, hand coming to rest on Arthur’s stomach.

  
Arthur’s smile grew wider.

“You know,” Merlin said, and his voice was scratchy but he sounded considerably more awake than Arthur had thought. “Sometimes I think the Caer Ibormeith was a blessing.”

Arthur went very still. “What are you talking about?” he asked. “That creature tried to drive you mad. It would have if…”

“If you had not entered into my dreamscape and rescued me.”

“Exactly.”

Merlin sighed and lifted his head so he could look Arthur in the eye. “But that’s just it. If it had not possessed me… if you had never seen my nightmares…” Merlin frowned, face growing sad. Arthur ached to see it. “I had hidden myself from you for so long; I’m not sure I would have ever had the courage to tell you any of it.”

Oh.

Arthur dropped his hand to Merlin’s knee and dragged it upwards over Merlin’s thigh, coming to rest just below his hip.

“You would have,” Arthur said with as much conviction as he could muster. “I believe you would have told me. Merlin, you’re the bravest man I’ve ever known. I am sorry every day that you feared how I would react, and that’s on me. I wish that you had trusted me, and I hope that I would have given you a reason to trust me eventually.”

“You gave me plenty of reasons,” Merlin countered. “But I couldn’t see clearly.”

Arthur touched the pads of his fingers to Merlin’s sharp ribs and pressed their foreheads together. Just holding Merlin like this made Arthur’s heart flutter. “It doesn’t matter,” Arthur said at last. “None of that matters, because we’re here now, and I…” He grazed his lips over Merlin’s mouth. “I will never give you a reason to mistrust me ever again.”

Merlin answered by pressing his mouth hard against Arthur’s and licking at the seam of his lips. When he pulled away he was flushed and trembling. “I trust you with my soul,” the new prince said.

And Arthur's heart overflowed with love.


End file.
